


Still

by hellkaiserryose (ManicPixieDreamPharaoh)



Series: Darkness Falling Leaves Nowhere To Go [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Denial, Developing Relationship, Edoryo, Mansion Fic, Minor Character Death, Sharing a Bed, Violence Tag just in case, reference to past self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManicPixieDreamPharaoh/pseuds/hellkaiserryose
Summary: But we're still sleeping like we're lovers.Based on Still - Daughter.





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

  _Still, with feet touching._

* * *

 

He curls his toes, the flexing of his muscles makes the shivering fade, but not quite disappear. The way his bones vibrate is born from more than just the cold. This world was always cold, the only source of heat in the mansion the flames, that barely brought about enough light to even offer their lives a small comfort. He’d thought he would grow used to the cold, thought it’d become a part of daily life, but it hadn’t. It remained prominent and noticable, only the effects of the frost-bitten air incorporated naturally into his routine. Being unable to feel his own skin, having to stretch in the mornings to warm his muscles, having to strap his finer bones to prevent aches. 

It had only taken a few days of complete numbness, before he’d picked up a habit he’d forgotten from his youth. He found himself punching his legs repetitively, watching the skin redden and blush where he inflicted the trauma, the colour then fading quickly, he’d repeat the cycle over and over until bruises took shape and residency on his skin. If his companion had noticed them, he’d respected Edo’s desire for some kind of self soothing enough to not comment, regardless of whether it may be harmful. 

They both knew the alternatives were worse.

The other had embraced the temperature with more ease. He rarely shook, never bartered with him for more blankets, instead draping his own over Edo’s shoulders, much to his chagrin. Edo was, by no means, lacking in muscle mass, but it was undeniable that Ryo’s body carried more substance. Perhaps that worked as some kind of natural insulation. Maybe he was just a warm person, he rationalised, until the initial embarrassment of their situation had quickly been surpassed by the equally important needs to conserve heat and stay close, should there be an intruder. If they agreed on anything, it was that despite both of their natural aversion to it, in this situation there was an undeniable safety in numbers. 

His theory that Ryo naturally conducted more heat than him was quickly extinguished, as ice-cold feet shift in the bed, heels brushing frostily against Edo’s calves. He yelps, before he can stop himself, jerks away quickly and curls his own feet in tightly.

“Your feet– are fucking– freezing.” He hisses through his teeth, sitting up and taking the blanket with him. He glares at Ryo, who gazes up at him. 

 Clad in only their underwear, clothing hung safety by the only fire they dared to leave lit for fear of giving away the mansion’s occupancy, it was the first night, after two weeks of dancing around the inevitable, that they had shared the bed at the same time. They’d taken sleeping in shifts until then, and Edo had never been more aware that the last time he shared a bed had been with his father. 

When his mother had died, he’d been plagued by nightmares, dreams of her enveloped by a brilliant light, smiling at him serenely before she was torn to dust by it before his eyes. His father had always been there for him when it happened, until he _couldn’t_ be. The hairs on his arms stood up as the shiver ran down his spine. Now wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the time to think of either of the people who entered his life when his father passed away.

“Why are you never cold?” He spits, bitter and restless, lashing out for no reason other than a futile attempt to distract himself. He stares down at the larger man’s exposed shoulders. Ryo doesn’t even seem to care that Edo had selfishly lifted the covers from him in his protest and was still withholding them. 

Ryo yawns into the back of his wrist, looks at him through clouded eyes. “I’m always cold, Edo. There’s no sun.”

“You don’t act like it.”

“Yeah, well. You need the warmth more than me.” A hand scratches idly at his own chest, an annoying habit that Edo has been sick of since the first day they were here. “Anyway, if you _think_ about how cold it is, you’re going to feel it more.”

He frowns. “I suppose.” He’d thought about that himself, naturally. He pulls his pillow closer, lets his body press down into it, facing towards Ryo now. He reaches for him, wraps his fingers around the other’s wrist, feels warmth spread between them. Ryo shifts closer, eyes closing, and Edo feels himself relax now, spared from the blank stare of the man he lived with. 

Their feet aren’t touching anymore, but he can feel it anyway, the cold radiates between them, and he thinks again of his father and the nightmares. He used to catch Edo’s ankles between his calves and hold them there, warming them tremendously, the pressure and weight of it incredibly comforting. 

(His mother used to iron socks for him if he was upset, he recalled. She’d always insisted that warm feet were the first step towards feeling better. He always suspected his father was employing a similar technique.)

He still remembers the level of sheer peace the gesture used to bring to him, feels it now, just thinking of it, so he braces himself for confrontation and shifts closer to Ryo, sweeping his legs forward. He catches the cold feet like his father used to, closes his eyes when he sees Ryo’s open, tilting his chin down to avoid his gaze.

“If you lose a foot to frostbite, I’m not carrying extra food for you.” He murmurs finally, after a few long moments of silence that feels heavily. He’s acutely aware of the proximity of his face to Ryo’s chest. 

“Hm.” Comes the soft reply above his head, as an arm reaches around his shoulder, hand coming to rest on his back. They fall into darkness together, indistinguishable from that by which they now live their days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the violence mentioned.  
> Edo has a physical fight with a duel monster.

* * *

_Still, with eyes meeting._

* * *

Edo can taste the rust in his mouth, can feel the pulse in his skull as his head throbs where it’s pressed to the hard tile of the floor. He curls onto his side, body arched and folded in on itself, coughing the blood from his throat. It trails down his cheek, and he hates the feeling more than he should, in the current situation. The all-encompassing ache begged him to remain where he was, but he wasn’t one for half-measures. He presses his palms to the floor, frost from the open door creeping under his skin like thousands of impossibly small needles as he presses with all his might, forcing his shaking form to its hands and knees. 

The floor shifted beneath his quaking arms as his head spun, and he adjusts to push himself into a kneel, but a swift kick catches the back of his head, casting him prone across the tile once more. His reaction time was painfully slow, an after effect of the way his head had cracked against the tile, he assumes, and he thinks of the way his martial arts instructor would have scorned him with cold silence for letting that attack land. He rolls onto his spine this time, the notches of vertebrae aching as the press to the floor. He’d lost weight living here; they both had. He uses his elbows to propel himself to his feet before his body has time to resist, swerving into a duck as a taloned fist swings for his head.

The sharp movement sends him reeling, and its all he can do not to pass out as he grounds himself in a defensive stance, attempting to kick his assailant’s legs from under them. He misses, wildly, and pays for it with a punch that catches beneath his jaw. Keeping his head raised, this time, his teeth clack together painfully, a searing pain like a hot wire races up his mandible. Whiplash takes effect as his head snaps back, and he sees the door to their bedroom, open. 

Keeping his head where it is, rolled backwards on his shoulders, he sucks in shallow breaths as the shock passes through his body, watching with rising dread as Ryo’s form rises from the sheets. He’s slept through the attack until now, he realises, and had he the time to spare, he’d consider concern for how much rest the older man took these days, how much heavier his sleep had grown, but as it was, he waited for him to see him, so that he might find some way to prevent him from getting involved. 

He watches him process, leaping for his deck and tugging his duel disk onto his arm. Unclothed, groggy with sleep deprivation, and weakened from the living conditions, Ryo was vulnerable, at best, and Edo knew he’d be little help. If both of them were incapacitated by injury, they’d have no hope of survival at all. He flips his body, remaining on his hands and knees as he catches his breath, he can feel his hair knotting with blood at the temple, waits for Ryo to look at him again. 

As Ryo moves to leave the room, their eyes finally meet, and Ryo stills, hesitating. Edo widens his eyes, shaking his head sharply, prays he understands. He hesitates, and Edo feels his body shaking with the tension, arms threatening to give up on supporting him. He knows how out of character it is for him to hesitate, knows this is a good sign, knows this means he gets it, but that only makes the fury in his flare up as his reluctance to let him handle this alone.

“I’ve _got_ this.” He hisses, the words spat through his teeth, blood splattering onto the floor. He licks his teeth clean and rises to his feet with their eyes still locked. A long moment of silence passes before Ryo finally nods, relenting. He doesn’t remove his duel disk, but he shifts enough to cloak himself in the shadows of the room, so that he might continue to go unnoticed. 

Edo feels his body heave with relief, knowing Ryo was on his guard should it be necessary, he feels vomit rise in his throat. Swallowing it back with an acidic burn, he turns back to face his attacker. An avian-humanoid monster. He recognises them, but can’t place the name. He hates that, hates facing monsters he doesn’t know. Knowing their card effects in advance helped to stack the odds in his favour when it came to a physical altercation.

Brushing his hands off on his pants, he looks to the intruder. “Sparring with you has been a _pleasure_ , but I’m afraid you’ll be leaving now.” He says, forcing his trademark smirk onto the aching bones of his face. He sidesteps the monster’s lunge, twisting on his grounded good to follow their own momentum, turning it into a tackle. He straddles the feathered body, clasping his hands together and bringing them down firmly on the creature’s head. 

The monster stills beneath him. He looks down at his own arms, a sting searing through them. He pants. Blood pours from them, and he realises the weight he feels is his opponants final act of fight. Both hands had been thrust towards him, the sharp talons on their knuckles piercing into his forearms. They must be barbed, he realises, because they haven’t fallen, the dead weight of unconscious arms anchors them, tearing the gashes open further. 

Blood runs down his arms in thin waterfalls, more than he knows can be safe, and his vision swings wildly as his head goes numb. In his last moments of consciousness, he wonders briefly if the barbs might be poisoned, if Ryo will figure out if they do in time to save him. 

“Ryo–” He manages to call, eyes fluttering shut as his weight falls onto the cool steel of the armour beneath him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The duel monster is Hayabusa Knight, if anyone was wondering.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor character death (off screen)

* * *

_Still, our hands match._

* * *

“Don’t touch me.” His back is pinned to the wall, fingers digging into the brickwork. He grinds his nails along the grit until it hurts so much he feels nothing at all. He sets his jaw, stares at Ryo, shirt soaked in blood. Human blood. That’s human blood. That’s a _child’s_ blood. He has to leave. He wants to go, wants to run, wants to feel his feet pound against the dirt so hard and so long that aches run up his legs, but he can’t. There’s nowhere to go; leaving is a death wish. 

A death wish.

Ryo raises his hands, slowly. “Edo, I won’t hurt you.”

He laughs, bitterly. “Believe me, you _couldn’t.”_ He looks at those hands, the calluses in his fingertips, the clumsiness in the digits. He thinks about how tenderly those hands had cut the barbs from his arms the week before, how he’d had to talk to him through placing the stitches, because Edo’s numb fingers couldn’t manage it. He thinks about those hands, and the other places they were that evening, the mulled wine bought from the market as a poor substitute for proper sterilization, lingering in their systems, heads buzzing. Edo’s bloody clothing drying by the fire, the same shade of crimson staining his arms as he climbed into Ryo’s lap and linked them behind his head. 

(Ryo’s hands on his spine, his hips, pulling at his thighs, wrapped _around him_ , fingers pushing hastily inside–)

He hates them. Hates those hands. Hates the things they’ve done and the things they represent.

“You _killed_ her.”

Ryo takes a step towards him, and he can see dirt on his hands. The shovel leans against the wall behind him. “Edo.” He says, and pauses. He stops moving. “She was in pain. You saw. You know she couldn’t have lived like that.”

Edo shakes his head, knows he’s right, but hates it all the same. “But you killed her.” His voice loses all malice, instead going pitchy and afraid. He doesn’t know how much longer than can live like this. Doesn’t remember the last time he felt so accutely fifteen. He wishes they’d saved some of the wine.

Ryo’s eyes darken. “Yes. I did. I had to. But now she’s not suffering, and she’d have been dead anyway.” He tone is empty. He glances at his own hands, then brings one up to scratch at his chest, like always. “I’m sorry if you can’t handle that. But this is a fucking warzone, Edo. People die. I’m going to clean up.”

Edo watches him leave through the back door, still rubbing his fingers bloody against the bricks.  

****

He wakes to the sound of sobbing, his back cold, because Ryo isn’t pressed to it. Pushing himself up, he looks at the form that’s turned away from him. He’s shaking, shoulders heaving as wet breath is sucked into dry lungs. He can make out the notches of his spine and the cut of his shoulder blades far too well. He makes a mental note to try to get more meat on their next supply run. Ryo needed the sustenance, even if meat was more of a hassle to prepare. He’d lost weight again, and that wasn’t good. 

Edo has no idea how to deal with another person’s tears, hardly knows how to deal with his own, but _Ryo Marufuji_ is the last person he’s prepared to comfort. He knows Ryo, knows his pride will prefer he pretend not to have noticed, to not bring it up, and yet. For him to be crying, he knows it’s bad. He’s made his own share of bad decisions. Laying a hand on Ryo’s shoulder, he doesn’t speak, tugging gently to guide his head to roll into his lap, he laces his spare fingers through dark hair. 

Ryo’s hand catches his knee, and he presses his face deeper into his lap, as though burrowing enough to hide his face might stop Edo from noticing the tears themselves. Edo studies his right hand. That hand had taken a life. A _human_ life. Yet, Edo wasn’t sure the monsters lives they’d been ending as a duo were all that different from that of a young girl. He’d been thinking it for a while, now, but hadn’t wanted to deal with that reality, hadn’t wanted to carry to consequences of that guilt in his heart while it was still fundamental to their survival. 

He reaches for him, slips a finger around one of Ryo’s, using it to lift his hand, he threads them together. Ryo stills slightly in his lap as he examines them. He still wouldn’t speak, knows that he needs this silence now. He’s sure that if he wants him to speak, he’ll tell him, and so he studies their hands. They fit together so well, and Edo was so used to his callouses now. The scars on his own were, cosmetically, invisible, but the build up of scar tissue was noticable when they were pressed to Ryo’s bruised palm. 

Accutely aware that while he may like to think difference between the actions of their respective hands were, they were still a pair. A matched set, very similar in many ways. Half-sick with the visuals he’d seen that day, half-frozen in the cold, and half terrified of the softness of Ryo’s cheek on his bare thigh, Edo closes his eyes, and lets himself need that intimacy. 

In a world as lonely as theirs, many things that went unspoken weren’t necessarily unsaid. 


	4. Chapter 4

 

* * *

  _Still, with hearts beating._

* * *

 

“Ryo– I can’t carry you; you have to try to walk.” Given that he’s bargaining with a barely conscious man who is twice his height, Edo thinks his efforts might be futile. Ryo is half draped over his back, and he can feel blood soaking into his clothing. The hands he has a grip of at the wrists twitch, and the weight behind him shifts, then is suddenly almost gone. He straightens, guiding Ryo’s hands to counterbalance him, he turns, watching him sway slightly as he struggles to support himself. Ryo’s face doesn’t regain it’s colour, eyes unfocused. He pushes him softly. “Sit.” He directs, tugging at his arm to lead him to settle onto a nearby log.

The completely lack of resistance at both being ordered and dragged only makes heightens his concern. Ryo’s breath is laboured, gritty, his head dropping between his knees when he’s seated. Edo paces before him anxiously, hands flitting by his sides as he tries to collect himself enough to know what to do. After a few laps, he stops, staring off into the forest, facing away from his companion. He drags his hands up his face until they find purchase in his hair, he tugs at it, the numb tearing of dry hair helping to centre him, he speaks softly, voice just loud enough that Ryo might hear.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ryo has been sick. He knows it. He’s known it since early on, but hadn’t wanted to ask. Hadn’t wanted to pick a fight with it, trusted Ryo to tell him, if it got too severe. But here he was, pale and thin and weak, almost choking on his own breath, and he needs to know, civility be damned.

What follows is more broken breathing, a thick cough, and then; “Ventricular Fibrillation.”

Edo had expected a half an answer, maybe an aversion of the topic, or an accusation in return. He was not expecting a medical condition he knew the nature of all too well. A term he knew usually came paired with the words ‘Sudden Cardiac Arrest’ and ‘Fatal.’ He exhales, a long and anxious sound like a whistle, shifts slightly, and looks over the nearby cliffs edge. The darkening skies are laced with smoke, and crimson flares, and there’s screaming in the distance. (There’s always screaming somewhere in the distance.) He swallows, trying to soothe the itch that crawls up his throat.

“When did you find out?” He asks, every minor signal that should have alerted him flooding in at once. The chest clutching, comments about time running out, the sheer effort Ryo had put into spending the last year alienating himself from everyone further than before. He remembers just before they were brought to this world, seeing him cringe, asking what was wrong and receiving a snide answer that left him defensive. He should have pushed the issue then. 

“About two weeks before the others came back from the other dimension.” He replies. “Though I knew before that, I just didn’t have a name for it.”

“Ventricular Fibrillation is fatal, Ryo.”

Silence.

“I am well aware."

More memories flood him. Ryo throwing himself between Edo and a blade just an hour prior, his determination to find a ‘worthy opponent,’ his frustration at yet another foe that didn’t come close to matching him, his talk of being the one to take down the Supreme King. Edo turns to face him, finally. “You’re trying to–”

Ryo raises his head, greying, shoulders drooping. It wasn’t the right time for this.

“We need to take you to a doctor.”

“Edo–”

“No, be quiet. I swear to god, Ryo.”

There’s a pause, and then, softly. “Okay.”

Edo swallows, tries to calculate if they can both make it to the medic the next village over. God, he knows it’s a long shot that hse’ll still even be there, that the Supreme King’s armies won’t have already taken her, that other survivors hadn’t already looted all of the supplies.

“Wish either of our decks had anything rideable.” Ryo quips, and Edo shoots him a sharp glare.

“You’ve cannibalised yours so much that I’m surprised anything in it still does as you ask.” He snaps back, pulling Ryo to his feet with little grace. “We’re going to walk until you physically can’t, and then you’re going to wait where I leave you while I go for help. Got it?” When no complaint or argument comes, he wraps an arm around his waist and helps guide him through the woods.

As they walk, he thinks about their cards, their monsters. His deck could probably be useful in this situation, if Ryo were unconscious. He could summon one of them, any of which would be capable of carrying the taller boy to safety, yet th possibility of communicating with his deck in any direct way opened too many doors he wasn’t ready to acknowlege had a handle, let alone a room behind them, and anyway, if Ryo falls unconscious, he might never wake up. He walks on, mud kicking up their legs as feet drag.

A million questions play around in his head, but half of them he doesn’t want to hear the answer to, and the other half are questions for someone else. He hates him for this, hates him for keeping it a secret so long, but also understands perfectly, unable and unwilling to relate, but capable of understanding. He can allow him this, as he carries him through the dark. It isn’t long before Ryo’s weight begins to rest a little too heavily on him, feet forgetting some of his steps, and Edo ignores his protests, finds him a place to rest, and uses his rucksack to cushion his head where it lays.

“You have your deck?”

Ryo nods, eyes closing as his body curls in on itself. Edo sighs softly, retrieving his deck box from his briefcase, he leafs through until he finds the one he seeks. He glances over it briefly before pressing it into the field of his duel disk, fighting to remain impassive as Phoenix Enforcer is summoned before him. His eyes meet the monster’s momentarily, before he nods, nudging Ryo’s ankle with his foot.

“Hey.” Grey eyes meet his as Ryo turns to look at him through worryingly pale eyes. “Don’t you dare die on me.” _As well._

A brief smile touches Ryo’s blue lips, eyes gaining a tiny glimmer of life again. “A child to the end.” He murmurs softly. Edo can’t bring himself to kick a dying man, so the comment goes ignored as he turns to continue his journey, breaking into a run the moment he was sure he was far enough that Ryo wouldn’t hear him pick up the pace.

***

His body is where he left him, and Edo sees it from a distance, launching into even more of a run, one hand clutching tightly to the strap of the small sack the healer had given him. Dropping to his knees beside the prone form, he grabs it at the shoulder, shakes him too hard. His head flops back and forth with the ferocity of it, lifeless. “Ryo? Ryo?” he looks to the winged biped that floats beside them, eyes widen. “Did he fall asleep?”

Phoenix Enforcer nods, solemn. “I watched over him. He was conscious until recently.”

Edo looks back down at Ryo. Shoving the cloak over his head, the coat back from his shoulders, he presses an ear to his chest, pins his fingers against his throat. His heartbeat is faint, but it’s there. He feels relish flood in prematurely. Running through the necessary steps, he quickly ensures his throat is clear, rolling him carefully to lie flat on the side, before folding his hands at the centre of his chest.

He performs CPR until he’s breathless, mouth pressed firmly to Ryo’s as he forces air into his lungs, tears stinging at his eyes. “You aren’t allowed to die on me too! You just aren’t!” He forces the cross of his hands against Ryo’s chest a final time, hears a sharp snap, feels give under his hands. Choking breaths come with the expanding of Ryo’s chest as he gulps in air. Edo drops his head to his stomach, near folded in two, and lets the sobs come, acutely aware of Ryo’s movement beneath him, the stutter-start of his heartbeat beneath his skin, that he may have just launched a fragment of rib bone into a vital organ, killing him anyway.

“Edo–” His voice is cracked, distant and dry. He doesn’t try to move, and Edo thanks every god he can think of that Ryo has the basic survival instinct to be still right now. He sniffs sharply, turning his head to face away, ear pressed firmly to Ryo’s torso, tears on his cheeks that Ryo can’t see. He listens to his heartbeat like it’s the only thing sustaining his own.

“No fucking dying, asshole. Not while I’m alive.”

A hand cards through his hair, cold fingers stilling against his scalp. “No dying while you’re still alive.” The words come like a promise, Edo feels his vision begin to clear as his sobs slow.

He wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand, clears his throat. “Good.” He murmurs, not an ounce of care left for whether Ryo found him childish, or immature, the only thing that mattered to him at this point was their two hearts, beating out of sync, tiny flickers of life in the darkness that was ever falling around them.


End file.
